Win Or Lose
by SpobyFicStalker
Summary: "It really wasn't fair how winning no longer held quite the same brilliance, but the sting of losing had yet to lose its edge." Two tennis matches. Two different outcomes. One cameo appearance by someone associated with the sport. Spencer and Toby. Oneshot.


A/N: So this is something that's been in my head for months. I just never thought I'd write it because I thought the plot wasn't strong enough. But hey, the muse wants what it wants, right? One day cracked open my laptop with the intention of writing something with a little more depth, and this came out instead.

That being said, I still don't think it has a strong enough plot. Haha. But I'm posting it anyway because I think some of you guys might find it halfway entertaining? I don't know. See for yourself, I guess. Sorry if it sucks.

As always, thanks so much for all the feedback on my last story. To the anon reviewer with all the questions: you're cute and I love you but I decided to answer them at the bottom of this story to avoid annoying other readers who might not give a shit about my longwinded rambles. Haha.

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><p><strong>Win Or Lose<strong>

There was a time when Spencer had considered this the best feeling in the world.

Her opponent let out a cry of frustration as her racket touched the tiny, green ball, realizing at once that she had hit it much too hard. The tennis ball soared over Spencer's head to the very back of the court, way out of bounds, and suddenly it was all over.

She had won. Two sets. 6-3 and 6-2.

A scream of joy erupted from Spencer's mouth, and she dropped her racket to the ground and covered her face with her hands. Winning still felt good. Whether it was tennis or field hockey or a stupid board game, she still liked to win. It made her feel enriched and empowered, like she was on a drug high and could handle any obstacle the universe threw at her.

But in the last year and a half, she had learned what she suspected would have taken her most of her life to realize if things had been just a little bit different. She had learned that there were things that left her feeling much more satisfied.

It really wasn't fair how winning no longer held quite the same brilliance, but the sting of losing had yet to lose its edge.

Her trainer come over to her, patted her on the shoulder in approval as she took a few gulps of water. He quickly shared a few pointers on things she could still improve, but it was obvious he was happy with her because he didn't go into to much detail. Spencer just kept nodding almost absentmindedly, still holding her water bottle against her lips.

She was impatient to get off the courts – even more so when she became aware of a tall, muscular form approaching her out of the corner of her eye. He waited patiently, just a few feet away, and Spencer felt almost ridiculous for the way her heart fluttered in anticipation.

None of her friends had been able to make it today, and her mother had made an excuse no doubt to avoid bumping in to her father – which was ironic since her father had ended up cancelling an hour before the match anyway. And so it was only her most loyal supporter who had sat in the stands, cheering her on. Not that this was anything out of the ordinary.

He immediately approached her once her trainer walked off, and before she knew it he had lifted her off the ground with his hug. She felt sweaty and gross but somehow none of that mattered as he squeezed her to him and murmured quietly in her ear, "Congratulations. I'm so proud of you."

She smiled into his shoulder. _This_ was the best feeling in the world, she thought. This… and a few other things he did to her.

"You're not supposed to be on here," she told him once her feet touched the reddish sand again. "Your shoes are going to mess up the ground."

"Okay," he said amicably, relaxed as ever as his fingers found hers and they walked off the court together.

She had never been to this country club before. These interclub tennis championships took place at a different one every time so she was familiar with most in the Philly area, but this one was entirely foreign. Toby had had some time to go exploring while she'd been warming up, so he immediately pulled her in the direction of the breezeway.

"Come on, I'll buy you a drink," he announced, shooting her one of his adorable grins.

She laughed a little. "Let me hit the showers first."

His eyes widened as he quickly shook his head. "No way! You in that little white skirt is the sexiest thing ever and you're never taking it off."

More laughter escaped her as she looked at him admiringly. Apparently the fact that she was damp and sticky didn't bother him at all.

"Not ever?" she teased seductively, leaning in closer to him and walking two fingers up his rock hard chest.

"Not until I can take it off you," the corrected himself huskily, his hand finding the small of her back and pulling her all the way against him.

Their lips met in a hot, lingering kiss that would have made her knees buckle if he hadn't been holding on to her so tightly. For a moment, it didn't matter that they were in plain view, and that she had a reputation to uphold not only as a tennis player but as an honor student and an example to society as well. For a moment, it was just him and her.

He smiled into her eyes when they broke apart and reached for her hand again, weaving his fingers through hers as he pulled her gently towards the main area of the country club. They decided to get ice cream instead of a drink after spotting a stand, noticing that the line wasn't too long. She was telling Toby about the perfect volley she'd pulled off during the match earlier, and was so captivated by the endless look of attentiveness in his eyes – like he would literally stay awake all night just to hear her talk – that she startled somewhat when they were interrupted by a third party.

"Hey, Spencer," came a male voice, and she turned her head to the person waiting in line in front of them.

Her brain struggled to catch up for a moment. It had been months and months since she'd thought about him, months since his name had even fleetingly crossed her mind. He was someone from a different life – a life where she had barely known who she was, and had fussed over things that now got cast aside without a second thought because of other, much more dire priorities.

She found herself looking into the once familiar eyes of Alex Santiago.

"Hi," she forced herself to greet him back after a moment, suddenly worried that things had already become awkward because of how long it had taken her to get over her surprise.

"I uh…" He nodded towards the tennis courts. "I saw you out there. You were great."

"Thanks," she replied automatically, trying not to feel too uncomfortable.

Alex must have picked up on the tension because he finally took his eyes off her, only to land on the body that was standing so close to hers that she could actually feel the heat radiating from his pores. It was enough to startle Spencer into action.

"This is Toby," she said quickly, making the split decision that adding _my boyfriend_ to the introduction was completely unnecessary. The man was still holding her hand, after all.

She looked up into his open blue orbs. "Um… this is Alex."

Judging by the expression on his face, Toby hadn't exactly needed this extra piece of information. He had seen Alex all but once in his life – across the room in a scarcely lit environment – but apparently it still managed to leave an impression on him.

His jaw seemed a little tense but he held out his hand anyway, and Spencer couldn't help but feel a certain sense of pride. Other guys might be unnecessarily rude to their girlfriends' exes, or try to prove their masculinity in some way, but Toby always tried a peaceful approach first. He had the physique of a bear but the heart of a lamb, and she knew she could always count on him to be decent even if he wasn't digging the situation much.

The two reluctantly shook hands, and Spencer took advantage of the situation to let her eyes roam back and forth between them for a moment.

It had never really dawned on her how different they were – physically speaking. Toby literally towered over Alex, and was much more buff. Even their coloring was different. Alex's Hispanic roots were clearly visible in his dark eyes and dark hair, which was a massive contrast to Toby's pale blue eyes and the hair that she knew had evolved from blond to chestnut over the course of his childhood.

Personality-wise, however, she could see a few similarities. They were both likeable, easygoing and generally even-tempered. Alex was a little more outgoing while Toby had a timidity about him that had yet to completely go away, but for the most part they seemed quite alike on the surface.

But Spencer knew perfectly well where their most significant differences lay.

Toby was and had always been much more intuitive, and much more stubborn. Even early on he'd sensed things about her that no one else ever had. She knew it was at least part of the reason he'd always fought so hard for her – because he somehow sensed that it wasn't her that was rebelling against him, but outside forces that she had no control over.

When she thought about how Alex had run away after only a fraction of what Toby had been through with her, she couldn't help looking between the two boys and feeling tenderly grateful that it was the blue-eyed one that was hers.

"Do you work here now?" she asked Alex politely, somewhat desperate to keep the conversation going since neither he nor Toby seemed too excited by the prospect.

"Yeah," the shorter man confirmed. "I'm on my break."

She forced a smile. Alex had disappeared from her own country club shortly after they broke up. It didn't take a genius to figure out he had looked for job opportunities elsewhere to avoid bumping into her. Spencer had been relieved at the time, though now she struggled to remember why.

Had she even felt any sort of heartache after he so abruptly gave up on their relationship? If she did, she didn't remember it. She remembered confusion and disappointment, but none of the utter desolation that would come later when she was on the outs with Toby.

Alex's turn to order had come up – finally – and when he was holding his ice cream in his hand he gave her a friendly salute and mumbled, "See you around, Spencer."

She thought he could have at least acknowledged Toby too, but decided it wasn't worth it and let him go with a simple, "Bye."

Not much later, she and Toby were settled on one of the benches, picking at their ice creams with miniature plastic spoons. She sat facing him, her tennis shoes and socks long discarded as she had wriggled both her feet underneath one of his thighs.

She eyed him carefully, noting how he seemed to be swirling his spoon through the frozen dessert rather than actually eating it.

"You okay?" she asked lightly.

His eyes ascended to meet hers, as if he was surprised. He cleared his throat and said quickly, "Fine."

She dropped the little spoon in the cardboard cup and reached out to rub the back of his neck. "Talk to me," she murmured.

She knew him. He was fretting over something – probably Alex-related – but he wouldn't mention it because they weren't that kind of couple. They didn't make a big deal out of things from the past, things that didn't matter anymore, things that had never really mattered in the first place. They knew what they meant to each other, and that nothing in the world stood a chance at harming it.

And sure enough, he shook his head and declared, "It's stupid."

Spencer knew that every once in a while, old insecurities would flare up. It was a fact of life, and it wasn't as if she was immune to it. She patiently waited for him to meet her eyes, and when he did the words tumbled from his lips in an embarrassed mumble.

"It's just… Emily accidentally let it slip that he took you Latino dancing once… or something? And it killed me because… I can never give that to you. I'm a horrible dancer and you're so great and you deserve someone who can dance with you," he rambled hurriedly, his eyes no longer connected with hers.

Spencer sat there for a minute, completely dumbstruck, before she very narrowly held back a peal of laughter.

This was what he was worried about? That she had danced with Alex in the country club kitchen once, and that she might miss having a boyfriend who could twirl her around like a baton?

As ridiculous as it sounded to her ears, she knew that to him it was no laughing matter. Making fun of him was not a good idea right now, so she gently smoothed a rebellious lock of hair away from his forehead instead.

"You give me other things," she assured him softly. "More important things."

When he simply stared out in front of him unhappily, she knew he would need more detailed convincing.

"You make me laugh," she began. "You go along with my schemes, you role play with me, you let me ramble and vent when I get crazy. You call me out on my bullshit. You make me smile when I'm sad and you hold me when I get scared. You're honest with me. You're always there to catch me no matter how badly I screw up, and you forgive me over and over." She swallowed, willing herself not to get emotional. "No one gives me what you do, Toby. No one ever could."

They had never been a couple of many words. They communicated much more with their eyes and their touches and their body language. But every once in a while they could surprise each other with verbal confessions that came straight from the heart, and Spencer knew they currently found themselves in one of those moments.

His eyes were soft now, and open, and vulnerable. He didn't speak, but he used his free hand to tug on her legs until they were draped across his lap.

"I still think I should learn how to dance," he told her gruffly as he slid his arm around her waist, and she laughed.

"You're fine," she assured him. "I love dancing with you."

He snorted. "When I'm not stepping on your toes, you mean?"

Spencer rolled her eyes, then leaned forward and attached her lips to his neck. "Eat your ice cream," she instructed in a firm, sexy rasp, "so we can home and you can do stuff with me that you _are_ exceptionally good at."

To his credit, he didn't miss a beat. "Like Scrabble?"

"Not what I had in mind," she breathed before capturing his lips with hers and giving him a taste of what they would be doing as soon as they were in a secluded area.

Sure enough, they shoveled down their ice creams and were set to go not five minutes later. She told him she wanted to use the bathroom first, since it was a forty-minute drive back to Rosewood, and they agreed to meet at his truck in the parking lot. She was sifting through her phone on her way back from the restrooms when her thoughts were interrupted for the second time that day by the same voice.

"So I take it that guy is right up your alley, huh? Privileged background? Cocky and driven and headed for the Ivy's?"

She whirled around to face him with a guarded expression set in her features, feeling very unappreciative of the bitterness she detected in his tone. Bitterness, but also a twisted kind of insecurity unless she was very much mistaken.

"Not that it's any of your business," she spoke with a clear warning in her tone, "but that's not who he is at all. He was a carpenter for a while, and he now he's with the Rosewood Police Department."

Surprise was clearly visible on Alex's face, and it threw Spencer even further on the defensive.

Was that really what he thought of her? She knew he had broken up with her because he thought they wanted different things, but did he really think she only put merit on people with that kind of ambition and prestige?

"It was him, though, wasn't it?" Alex checked slowly, his voice considerably calmer but still unyielding. "The one that took your friend Emily to Homecoming? The one you stared at all night?"

Spencer suddenly realized that while she _had _briefly questioned if Toby recognized Alex from that evening, it had never occurred to her to wonder whether or not Alex remembered Toby. Apparently the answer to both questions was a loud and obnoxious yes.

"It wasn't like that," she told him impatiently, trying not to sound too annoyed. "I didn't know him, and I thought…" She shook her head, unwilling to get into their long and complicated history, and repeated, "I didn't know him. I had no interest in him back then, I'm sorry if I gave you a different impression."

"I wondered," he admitted grudgingly. "But it wasn't until I saw you with him just now that I felt like a complete dumbass."

"Well, don't," she said shortly, glad it was out in the open. She made to walk away with a parting grimace, but apparently he was not done reliving the past.

"I liked you. I questioned for months if I made the right choice by ending things."

She sighed, turning back to him once again. At the time, his decision had seemed unexpected and abrupt, but also so unmistakably final that the possibility of him regretting it later never even crossed her mind. She had never pegged him for an impulsive guy, but now as she watched him struggle with events that happened over a year ago it dawned on her that he just might be exactly that.

"Everything happens for a reason, right?" she replied, trying to keep her voice light. Being a natural-born rationalist, it wasn't something she was sure she believed in, but she was determined to weasel out of this situation without conflict. If that meant uttering crap that would normally make her ears bleed, so be it.

Alex seemed unfazed, and did not comment directly on her words. "We were great together, though. Weren't we?"

She shifted, starting to grow a little uncomfortable now. She still remembered what had drawn her to him in the first place – which was that he was unlike anyone she'd ever encountered in the narrow-minded little bubble-wrapped circle her parents brought her up in – but was this kid imagining things? Sure, they'd had a few enjoyable moments, and she wasn't going to deny having some fun with him, but when push came to shove all they'd shared was a few weeks of childish infatuation that had ended before it ever really started up in the first place.

He wasn't just impulsive, she realized. He was also immature. Good-natured and for the most part agreeable, but ultimately immature.

"I love my boyfriend very much," she said softly, mindful to make her tone gentle so he would know that hurting him wasn't what this was about. "I'm very happy with him."

For a moment, she tried to imagine a different scenario. She tried to imagine running to Alex whenever she doubted herself or felt alone, tried to imagine how his arms would feel around her as her face burrowed into his chest. She tried to imagine texting him in the dead of the night, or the feeling of joy when he picked her up from school. She tried to imagine sex with him, what his hands would feel like on her body and what it would be like to sleep together in the same bed.

She came up empty. All she saw was an endless tunnel of nothing, and it made her long for the boy with the blue eyes until her whole body ached.

"I have to go," she mumbled, glancing in the direction of the parking lot.

Alex momentarily looked like he was going to protest, but then something close to acceptance washed over his youthful face as he muttered, "Yeah, all right."

Goodbyes were not necessary. They had already been said – a long time ago, really. And so they simply headed in opposite directions: Alex back to work, and Spencer to the love of her life.

He was leaning against the truck when she arrived, and she couldn't help the smile that washed over her face at the sight. She was still smiling an hour later, when they lay in a tangled heap in the middle of her bed. His lips were now soothing a love bite on her neck, and she closed her eyes in pleasure as she tugged at his fingers to pull his whole body more tightly around her.

"Let's keep dancing," she murmured, feeling his responding grin against her flesh.

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><p>Logically, she knew it was impossible to always win at everything. It was even impossible to always win at the same thing, as much as the idea depressed her. No matter how talented you were, no matter how many hours of blood, sweat and tears you poured into it, chances were there was always going to be someone just a little bit better.<p>

She just wished she didn't have to live in a house where losing was taboo.

Her trainer had just finished reciting his seemingly endless of things they (meaning she) needed to work on in the future, and with a sympathetic pat on her shoulder he was gone, leaving her sitting on the bleachers alone.

If she was honest with herself, she knew why this defeat stung so badly. It was that her father had finally made it to the championships, making a big deal out of coming to see her play the finals, and it ended up being the first and only match she lost all season. She had come in second place.

Most fathers would be proud of that, but Peter Hastings wasn't like most fathers. Spencer buried her face in her hands, trying to mentally build herself up so she would be strong enough to face him.

She was startled by a warm hand on her back, and felt the swoosh of a body sitting down next to her. She wanted to lean into to it, on instinct almost, but it was as if an invisible hand held her back. She always had trouble accepting his affection after she'd failed at something, almost as if she felt she didn't deserve it.

Luckily, he knew not to push. He simply rubbed her back soothingly as he murmured, "You did great."

She scoffed, slowly lifting her face from her hands and staring ahead. "No, I didn't."

"Yes," he insisted, tucking a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear, "you did."

"She wiped the floor with me," she stated with a distinct edge to her tone, turning to look at him in disbelief now.

"She did not wipe the floor with you," he disagreed calmly. "She needed three sets to beat you. I'm pretty sure that's not wiping the floor with someone."

"Her backhand is better than mine," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "and she's got a hell of a serve, too."

Toby sighed, the hand on her back ascending to gently massage her neck. She didn't pull away, but she didn't exactly welcome it, either.

"I bet that girl has never held a hockey stick in her life," Toby spoke after a moment. "I bet she's never sat on a horse. She's not on the Decathlon team and she isn't juggling God knows how many AP classes. She's not being threatened and terrorized every day of her life," he added softly.

She looked at him in surprise, feeling her heart jolt at the pain she saw in his eyes.

"It's a lot easier to excel at something when it's the only thing you have to worry about," he finished quietly.

His words broke the invisible chains around her. She leaned into him, her eyes falling shut at the sensation of his lips brushing against her forehead. For a moment, they just say together like this, his arm around her, her head tucked under his chin.

"I guess I'm just really not looking forward to seeing my dad," she finally confessed, feeling Toby tense ever so slightly beneath her as soon as she spoke the words.

"I'll talk to him if you want," he offered, and she smiled a little and shook her head, pulling away slightly.

"It's okay," she told him. It wasn't as if her father would scream at her, or cause a scene. The man just had an uncanny ability to make her feel lower than worthless with one disapproving look and a few well-placed words. Still, she sounded almost accepting when she muttered, "I might as well get it over with."

She made to get up but he grabbed her hand, holding her back. "Hey." He tugged her back down next to him and sighed a little before speaking. "I have to tell you this, because I don't know if anyone ever has, I can't let you go on another second without knowing…"

He looked torn, and Spencer couldn't help but feel confused. "Knowing what?"

He held her gaze. "That I'd love you just as much if you never won another tennis match again."

Her brain did that thing where it blocked out the parts that made her uncomfortable – or perhaps a more accurate description would be the parts it couldn't fully comprehend.

"Why would I never win another tennis match again?" she questioned agitatedly. "Why would you say that, it doesn't even make–"

"Spencer," he interrupted gently. "You're focusing on the wrong half of that sentence."

She stared at him as his words hit her full on.

He was right. No one had told her anything of the sort before. It had been implied a few times – by him, by her friends and on occasion even by her parents, sort of. But no one had ever come out and spoken the words to her face.

She knew he wasn't just talking about tennis. She could fail at everything a person could possibly fail at, and for some reason he would still think the sun shone out of her ass.

She leaned forward and placed her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry," she lamented against his shoulder, feeling herself tear up. "I'm an idiot, and… I don't know what I'd do without you."

He squeezed her tighter, and she felt him press a kiss to the side of her head. His voice was gentle as a summer breeze as he promised, "You'll never have to find out."

When they parted their lips brushed together briefly, though she couldn't say who had initiated the contact. She sensed a pair of eyes on them as they both got to their feet, and her gaze was drawn across the tennis court to the vibrant redhead who had just been crowned Interclub Tennis Champion.

Their eyes connected for a brief instant before the girl quickly looked away and started zipping up her tennis bag, obviously embarrassed to have been caught staring. However, she hadn't broken eye contact rapidly enough for Spencer not to detect something indiscernible in her eyes. Was it jealousy? Loneliness?

Spencer didn't know what to think for a moment, but then an overwhelming sympathy washed over her. A few minutes ago, this girl seemed to have everything as she stood there in her impeccable tennis outfit, with her flawless red ringlets and her emerald green eyes and the cup she so proudly held in front of her. But now Spencer suddenly wondered if anyone had ever told _her_ that she would be loved even if she never won another match again. Spencer hoped so. She knew what it felt like to question her self-worth like that, and it was something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.

She braced herself when she saw her father approaching, but with one glance at Toby she already felt calmer. Like her priorities had shifted almost unnoticeably.

In this world, you win some, you lose some. But being with Toby felt like winning at life, over and over. It made everything else seem like background noise.

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><p>AN: Yes. So. First of all, thank you for the interest. I'm kind of flattered and amazed and humbled at the same time. As for your questions:

- I guess I wouldn't mind you giffing quotes from my stories, but I would like to be notified if you do. Both out of curiosity and to avoid misunderstandings and stuff. So if you could leave me the link every time you use a quote that would be great.

- Lawrence, Cleo en Eloise are set in the future of the canon storyline for sure, but I'm not so uptight about it I can't imagine anything else (there are endless possibilities there, and I enjoy reading other people's versions of Spoby children a lot, too). Their personalities are just very well-developed in my head, and I very much enjoy writing them. In the universe of A Beautiful Mind, I originally only envisioned them having one child, Aaron, but suddenly in the epilogue they were pregnant again, and then Serene came to life in Requiem. Haha. Sorry if this doesn't make any sense but I really don't know how to explain it better. :)


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